


Birthday

by Herk



Series: The Life and Love of Mycroft Holmes [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Complete, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Greg's family is a mixed bag, M/M, Mycroft is a good host, OK Sherlock is still being Sherlock, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sherlock is being nice?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8478064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herk/pseuds/Herk
Summary: Greg's first birthday since he's moved in with Mycroft is coming up.





	

“My?”

 

Mycroft Holmes looked up from his morning paper to look at his lover.

 

“You know how my birthday’s coming up next month?”

 

Mycroft just raised an eyebrow. Of course he knew exactly when Gregory’s birthday was and he was very aware of how much time it was until then. His partner had a tendency to state the obvious in a roundabout way before getting to a specific point.

 

“I know you’re not big on parties and social get-togethers and I was planning to have a bit of a party with the blokes from work at the pub. No need for you to come if you don’t want to.”

 

Mycroft nodded once. He was really grateful that Gregory understood and accepted him and his idiosyncrasies so fully.

 

“But I was thinking of inviting family over - if you were OK with it.”

 

Mycroft put the paper down and furrowed his brow. “Your brother and sister both have families of their own, don’t they?”

 

“The kids are all teenagers. I highly doubt any of them would want to come to boring Uncle Greg’s birthday where a bunch of grownups sit around and talk about boring things. So it would be just them and their partners and my Mum.”

 

“Gregory, this is your home now as well. If you want to invite someone, I will certainly not forbid it.”

 

Greg grinned. “God help you if you ever tried. But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable either, so I’m giving you a fair warning and the chance to speak your mind.”

 

“Thank you.” Mycroft contemplated the prospect for a moment. “I don’t think you should un-invite your nieces and nephew. While I would greatly prefer not to have them around I survive Sherlock on a regular basis, so I’m sure I’ll be able to deal for an afternoon. If they decide not to come on their own, then fine. Either way I’ll do my best to be here.”

 

“No promises though?”

 

“Gregory, it’s six weeks until your birthday. I did my best to clear my schedule for the weekend after but I can’t promise there won’t be any crises happening. I can’t predict the future.”

 

“Of course not; no one’s asking you to, My.”

 

“If it is any consolation, I told Anthea why I wanted to clear my schedule. She likes you, so I doubt anything short of an international incident will get a chance to interrupt our weekend.”

 

Seeing the mischievous twinkle in his boyfriend’s eyes, Greg couldn’t help but grin. “Well, my family will only be here one afternoon, that leaves us quite a bit of the weekend on our own.”

 

“I might have an idea or two how to spend that time,” Mycroft admitted. “And not every one of those includes the bed.”

 

“Only about 70%, right?”

 

“Closer to 73% actually.”

 

Lestrade broke into laughter. “You are impossible, My.”

 

Mycroft got up and downed the last of his coffee, before kissing Gregory goodbye.

 

“Oh one last thing - would you mind if I invited Sherlock too? John and Mary will join me and the boys at the pub, but…”

 

“Having my brother there would be a catastrophe.”

 

Greg nodded his agreement. “Besides that, Sherlock isn’t just a friend. He’s family.”

 

“You really needn’t have waited to ask me that until I was halfway to the door, Gregory. It’s your birthday. I will play nice with your guests - even if they include my brother.” With that promise and a last kiss, the British Government left for work.

*

Six Weeks Later

 

His birthday on Wednesday was nice. He and his mates from work, John, Mary, and two or three associates he saw far too seldom all in the pub getting pleasantly buzzed. There were a few questions and a bit of gentle teasing by the blokes because he kept his boyfriend hidden away but nothing bad. They all had to get home relatively early - Thursday was a regular workday after all - but Greg didn’t really mind. Coming home, he found Mycroft had actually waited for him. And although he was too tired and drunk for much to happen that night, falling asleep cuddling to the British Government with fingers running through his hair and a voice whispering ‘I love you, Gregory’ into his ear was pretty much the perfect way to end any given day.

 

On Saturday Greg spent an amazingly long time in bed. It was the first time in weeks that he and Mycroft had a whole free day in front of them and an almost unprecedented second one afterwards. Getting up would mean that time would start running and eventually end. As long as they stayed in bed, Greg could almost convince himself that this was everything. That nothing outside this room mattered or even existed.

 

Eventually he made the mistake of looking at the alarm clock next to the bed. He sighed and put a kiss on Mycroft’s lips.

 

“I need to get up if I want to get the food prepared and everything ready in time.”

 

My dragged him back. “Stay.”

 

Greg was surprised to feel the strength behind the pull. He could have escaped of course but Mycroft put enough effort into it, that he would have actually needed to fight him off. He more or less fell back onto his lover.

 

“My!” Greg tried to protest but any attempt at rightful indignation died in a fit of laughter when he saw the sleep-tousled hair and the absolutely kissable face below it. “I need to start sometime, Love.”

 

The British Government pouted.

 

Greg spent the next few minutes snogging the living hell out of that pout, before he finally managed to break free. “How about some breakfast, Love?” When he saw the pout returning, Greg put a playful slap on Mycroft’s derriere. “Stop acting like Sherlock. Now how about you take your time under the shower and I’ll prepare us a full English breakfast?” Mycroft’s eyes widened and every protest died on his lips.

 

Over half an hour later he joined Greg in the kitchen following the smell of bacon. He was just wearing a simple pair of trousers and a button down shirt that neither had cufflinks nor was it properly tucked in.

 

“No suspenders or waistcoat? Will you face my family practically naked?”

 

Mycroft’s scowl held no real annoyance behind it. He could forgive a man almost everything if he cooked him a full English. “Your family won’t arrive before three o’clock. That’s plenty of time to get properly dressed. Besides I was planning to help you in the kitchen with the cake and other preparations. A waistcoat would be a tad inappropriate. On the other hand if I just get mocked anyway…”

 

“Oi - stop searching for excuses to get out of work, Holmes. If you want to partake in the glory of breakfast you WILL help in the kitchen.”

 

“Your wish is my command, Gregory.”

 

“Good. Now that we established that, sit down and eat before the eggs and beans cool off.”

 

Breakfast took surprisingly long. Usually they made do with a cup of coffee or two and a few slices of toast, consumed quickly and quietly before they went out to face the world. It was astonishing what kind of mischief two grown man could get up to with a bunch of sausages and scrambled eggs at the breakfast table. When Mycroft managed to steal the last bit of bacon from Greg’s plate and then generously shared it, Greg declared the breakfast finished. He took a good look around. The table was terribly messy and he had gotten several egg stains on his ‘The Clash” t-shirt. For some reason Mycroft had managed to not get anything on his clothes.

 

“How do you do that? Staying perfectly clean like that?” Greg was unsure if he should be astounded or annoyed at this additional Holmesian power.

 

Mycroft’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “I grew up around Sherlock - and Mummy insisted on clean and proper clothes. I learned by pure necessity or I would have spent half my teenage years in my room - changing.”

 

Greg chuckled. “Go load the dishwasher while I prepare the dough.”

 

They had plenty of time to prepare everything and have the cake ready just in time for their guests, Greg had made sure of that. And he was glad that he did, baking and preparing food to be ready for dinner later was extremely difficult when your ‘help’ was distracting you half of the time by demanding kisses or sneaking up on you. Finally Greg had to resort to smacking Mycroft with the spatula.

 

“Stop manhandling me, My - I need to get this finished.”

 

“We could always have something delivered.”

 

“There’s no way in hell I’m going to present my family anything less than a proper home-cooked meal and a self-baked birthday cake.”

 

Mycroft took a step back looking at him in wonder. “You are actually nervous.”

 

Greg stopped, startled by My’s observation. “I guess you are right - huh, I wouldn’t have expected that.” He turned towards his lover. “This is the first time you’re going to meet my Mum and my siblings - I want everything to be perfect.”

 

The British Government leaned back against the kitchen counter, the playfulness gone for the moment. “Giving my track record with social interactions that is highly unlikely.”

 

“Oh, My.” Lestrade pulled the elder Holmes into an embrace.

 

“Are you concerned about the impression I will leave on your family or the other way around?”

 

“Both? Neither? I don’t know. I just want you to get along. I care about all of you after all.”

 

Mycroft gently kissed him. “I’m sure everything will turn out alright.”

 

Greg looked at him. “I think that was the first time you pulled a ‘white lie’ on me, since we got together.”

 

The British Government smiled sheepishly as he was caught red-handed.

 

“Thanks.” Greg snuggled close to Mycroft for a moment, before he turned back towards his vegetable lasagna.

*

The first to arrive at three were Greg’s sister Sue, her husband Bill, and Greg’s mother. As expected the teenaged kids had all opted out of the family gathering.

 

Mycroft was at Greg’s side as they greeted their guests, wearing one of his obligatory three piece suits and his professional smile. Lestrade greeted his brother-in-law with a handshake before his sister and then his mother pulled him into a hug.

 

Sue, only two years Greg’s senior, very obviously still thought of him as her ‘baby brother’. She cared for him deeply even if they didn’t see each other all that often. She had worried about him after the divorce and was glad to see him happy with someone else. Her own life was perfectly boring and ordinary and she was completely OK with that. Her marriage wasn’t exciting but she was content and seeing that her husband was equally boring and safe they would most probably grow old together, both happy to have someone to share their life with.

 

Mycroft couldn’t help it that he knew all these things after just looking at her during the greeting. He smiled politely when Sue shook his hand and met with a warm and genuine smile. Everyone who made her brother happy were already good people in Sue Morten’s book; Mycroft decided that he liked her.

 

Bill Morten was an introverted man, happy to stand back when it came to his wife’s family. He wasn’t much of a family man, probably an only child. But he loved Sue and cared for her and was more than willing to endure much more than a small family party if it made her happy - although he would have probably preferred to spend his Saturday with his model planes. He shook Mycroft’s hand with an equally polite and non-committal smile as the government official himself showed. Mycroft could tell that Bill was feeling a tad uncomfortable faced with the obvious money and influence on display as well as Mycroft’s formal clothing but he wasn’t holding it against him. Mycroft knew that he could work with Bill.

 

Mrs. Lestrade was more difficult. She cared for Greg but she had a problem with his sexuality. Because she cared for her youngest she didn’t let on though and if Mycroft read the signs correctly Greg wasn’t aware of her slight prejudices. This put him in a difficult position. If he told Greg, he would upset him and disturb his relationship with his mother who clearly loved him. If he didn’t tell Greg, it meant another secret between them and this one not born out of the necessity of his job life. Mycroft smiled and greeted her the same way he would have a member of the royal family. Good manners could win over almost anybody in his experience.

 

“Now come on, don’t just stand there. The weather is lovely and we laid the table on the balcony for tea and cake.”

 

Sue smiled. She had the same expressive eyes as her brother even if she didn’t share in his good looks. “Lead the way then, Greg.”

 

It was indeed a lovely day. Mycroft automatically pulled out the chair for the elderly Mrs. Lestrade. Bill, obviously inspired by his behaviour, did the same for a slightly amused Sue.

 

“Now look at that, My. You’re making me look like an uncouth barbarian.”

 

“Apologies, Gregory. I’ll make sure to leave any gentleman-like behaviour to you from now on.”

 

Greg chuckled and leaned in for a kiss before he sat down himself. Mycroft noticed how Mrs Lestrade avoided to look their way during that obvious show of affection.

 

They exchanged a couple of pleasantries while Mycroft poured the tea and then started chatting in earnest, talking about this and that, from the football results over the kids up to the shenanigans an old schoolmate of Greg’s had been recently up to. Mycroft leaned back, mostly keeping quiet. A behaviour that didn’t cause any raised eyebrows since Bill was a quiet sorts as well. Gregory knew him well enough not to try and forcefully include him in the conversations and slowly Mycroft began to relax a bit. It was pretty clear where Greg’s friendly and uncomplicated character originated from.

 

Tom and his wife Lisa arrived about half an hour late. When Greg lead them to the balcony, Mycroft immediately took a dislike to Mrs Lestrade’s eldest. But he hadn’t worked with politicians for years without learning to mask even the greatest disgust.

 

Tom was loud, obnoxious, and everything Mycroft despised. 

 

Greg on the other hand just smiled at his brother’s rudeness and obviously still cared about him - the older brother he might not have necessarily looked up to but still loved. So Mycroft smiled, playing at being the perfect host.

 

Tom didn’t care for manners or hurt feelings at all. He ignored his mother’s displeasure as well as his sister’s frown when he made rude comments and somehow each and every turn of the conversation seemed to provide him with an opportunity to do so. It was hard to tell who was more uncomfortable, Lisa who was clearly ashamed of her husband’s manners, Sue because she was related to Tom, or Bill because the sheer loudness was grating at his nerves. Even Greg was slowly getting annoyed at his brother’s behaviour.

 

The tension got diffused for a while when Sherlock finally made his appearance. Today the younger Holmes was obviously at his best behaviour; he even rang the bell instead of letting himself in with one of the keys he had nicked from Mycroft. And he put on one of his masks: ‘slightly nervous but eager young man’. He greeted Greg’s family enthusiastically and immediately Mrs. Lestrade took a liking to him. Mycroft and Gregory exchanged slightly worried looks. Sherlock only pulled out one of his social covers when he wanted something and now they both wondered what he was up to.

 

Tom decided that Sherlock was irrelevant and harmless in a heartbeat. Mycroft wondered how long Sherlock would be able to keep up the pretense.

*

“Tom, don’t you think it’s enough?” The DI finally spoke up after the elder had basically called their brother-in-law a bloodless wimp.

 

“What - a little bit of harsh truth is too much for you? I thought policemen should be able to handle the facts.” Tom’s mouth was drawn into a nasty smirk. Apparently he thought he nailed it with everything that he’d said.

 

"I’m more than able to handle the truth, Tom. I just don’t buy into your version of it. Besides some of us remember the manners Mum taught us.”

 

“Yeah sure, it’s Mum’s manners - funny how you never cared for all that “properness” before you moved into this place, with your fancy lover in his three-piece suit.” The elder brother looked at the younger through narrowed eyes. “How does it feel to be the trophy wife, Greg?”

 

Mycroft got up before anyone had a chance to answer. “How about another round of tea?” He smiled at Mrs Lestrade pointedly ignoring Gregory’s brother. 

 

The elderly woman nodded and smiled relieved that someone offered her a way to ignore what her eldest had said.” “Yes, thank you. That would be lovely.”

 

“I’ll put the kettle on then.”

 

All the way to the kitchen the British Government fought the urge to send a quick text to Anthea ensuring that Thomas Lestrade’s life would be ruined. He went over prime factorisations of random numbers in his head to calm himself down, a method that had worked since his teenage years when Sherlock regularly drove him crazy.

 

“Really Greg, I don’t get what you see in that ponce.” Tom scoffed after the government official had left the balcony.

 

“Of course not - it would be hard to fathom for someone who thinks quantity is more important than quality especially when it comes to interhuman relations. How is your mistress, by the way? Or should I say mistresses?”

 

Greg’s eyes widened in horror as he realized that Sherlock was just getting started.

 

“Although to be fair, you only visit one of them regularly - the redhead is more like a bit on the side in case the blonde is away for too long. She does have a job that includes quite a bit of travelling and has money on her own - consultant if I had to take a guess. Poor Lisa, really - she knew you weren’t faithful but now I added public humiliation to her pain. It’s a pity how some men have to compensate for a shitty job with no career prospects by proving their sexual prowess to themselves. I would call it a midlife crisis but given your age and general health it’s far more of a three-quarter-life crisis…”

 

“Sherlock!” Greg managed to cut him off. “Inside - now!”

*

Mycroft was in the kitchen when he suddenly heard a hushed conversation from the hall. Gregory’s voice was too low for him to make out the words but he was clearly angry. He had planned to take some biscuits out but was stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the last bit of Gregory’s rant and his brother’s voice answering.

 

“...Mycroft managed just fine to dissuade the tension, but you had to blurt all that horrible stuff out.”

 

“Really, Lestrade? Managed fine? My brother had been gritting his teeth since I got here - and for once I wasn’t the source of his displeasure. Is it possible you really are that blind? Your brother is a first class idiot who projects his self-hatred onto you. He never accepted your sexuality, always considered it a phase you got over when you married. He resents you for being younger, better-looking, and allegedly more clever. You have a job that matters, while he pushes pencils from nine to five in a small firm that will probably go bankrupt within the year. Calling you a trophy wife not only implied that he thinks you would prostitute yourself for a nice home and a bit of financial security, he also said that my brother is so incapable of attracting another human being that he has to buy affection. Mycroft didn’t dissuade the tension by offering to brew tea - he fled the scene.”

 

Gregory had turned very pale at Sherlock’s analysis. Mycroft decided to step up.

 

“Thank you, Sherlock, I think that is quite enough.”

 

“I didn’t say one untrue word.” The unusual defiance reminded Mycroft of a much younger Sherlock.

 

“He’s right isn’t he? Tom upset you and I was too stupid to see it.”

 

Mycroft sighed. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen and help me with the tea?”

 

The younger Holmes rolled his eyes. It wasn’t as if they would say anything that he couldn’t figure out in a heartbeat.

 

“Sherl?”

 

The consulting detective’s head shot around at his brother’s voice. It wasn’t like Mycroft to fall back to childhood terms of endearment. This ‘relationship’ and the whole idea of a family party clearly confused the otherwise brilliant mind.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Sherlock just rolled his eyes. “I’ll be outside annoying your guests.”

*

Once they entered the kitchen Mycroft immediately continued preparing the tea.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Whatever for? You didn’t say anything offensive and you didn’t make your brother be a hateful, small-minded individual.” Mycroft poured the now boiling water into the pot then turned towards his lover. “It’s hardly your fault.”

 

“Well I _did_ invite him.” Greg sighed. “And I should have noticed earlier what Sherlock pointed out; you’ve been putting up a brave face for my sake.”

 

“It’s your birthday, Gregory. The least I can do is not act like an arrogant jerk around your mother.” There was a small self-deprecating smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I mean if I can do it for the ambassador of Sweden, I can do it for your family.”

 

Greg leaned in and cupped Mycroft’s face with his left hand. “But you shouldn’t have to. When it’s us, My - at _our_ home - you can be as much of an arrogant twat as you want to be.”

 

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at that. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

 

Greg leaned forward and put a passionate kiss on his lover’s mouth. “Absolutely.”

 

When Mycroft rested his forehead against Greg’s shoulder, Lestrade realised how much pressure his partner had apparently been under these last few hours.

 

“My, what Tom said…”

 

“Shouldn’t be getting under my skin. I’ve heard much worse assumptions about me over the years. I’m a difficult, antisocial, well-off, middle-aged man with receding hairline, I get why people would jump to that conclusion, seeing me with a gorgeous man like you…”

 

“Stop it. Stop it this instance, Mycroft Holmes. While I appreciate the compliment, I won’t have you belittle the man I love.”

 

“No matter how accurately?”

 

“No matter how accurately.” Greg agreed with a smile. “You are gorgeous to me, My. And I don’t give a flying fuck about receding hairlines.” He kissed him once more.

 

“Looking at you and Sue I wonder how your mother could have produced such offspring as your brother.”

 

“Tom is an obnoxious, loud idiot. We see each other so seldom these days that I tend to forget that. You know if he can’t behave himself and apologise for what he said, I think we should just throw him out. It’s my birthday and I really don’t want to spend it around morons.” Being around the Holmeses could be very difficult but it had also taught Lestrade to be ready to accept uncomfortable truths. And this afternoon had been an eye-opener regarding his older brother.

 

“I don’t think that will be necessary. We left Sherlock alone with your family for a while now and he wasn’t exactly fond of your brother.” Mycroft turned around and took the tea out of the pot. “I’m pretty sure I heard footsteps a few moments ago.”

 

“So let’s go out?” Greg offered his arm to Mycroft in an old fashioned gesture.

 

Mycroft smiled and took it, the tea in his other hand. “As you wish.”

 

“Oh and My… when I said ‘as much of a twat as you want to’...”

 

“I’m not my brother, Gregory, I _do_ possess basic manners.”

 

“Thank god for that.” He paused at the sound of his words and quickly added “I meant ‘Thank you, Love’” before they reached the balcony.


End file.
